Mirrors
by IggylovestheSwitz
Summary: AU. After the horrendous death of his older brother, Matthew has lived with the pain of watching him perish for over six years. Now, at the age of sixteen and the height of his sophomore year, he begins having dreams of his brother's spirit. The dreams lead him to a childhood mirror, which inevitably drags him into the twisted world of Alfred's demonic soul. Warnings inside
1. Prologue

_It was the screeches from burning car tires that had the young child jumping out of his seat in fear. He could hear everything, every curse and shout, but he couldn't see. He was blind of the outside world, hindered from fully knowing what was happening. _

_Bright flashes of white and red lights kept obscuring his vision. Every time they flashed and disappeared their light lingered, leaving the boy blindly searching his surroundings. He recoiled his hands back when his palm touched a burning surface, a sizzling sound erupting from the hot fabric. He didn't know where he was anymore; not the fact that he was inside of a strangely burning car, but he couldn't tell _exactly _where. No more hollow curses or yells could be heard. Just the cold (hot) feeling of being alone. Where was his father? Where was his brother?_

_Panic bubbled to the surface and the boy was on the verge of tears. Instead of blinding light blocking his vision, smoke had began to pour in through the car's cracked windows. He hacked out most of the polluted air that he could, but that only made him gasp for more. The child quickly fumbled to unbuckle himself from the safety strap holding him in place. It had him trapped and he couldn't stay breathing in that air for long. _

_After a few more attempts at setting himself free he gave up. Something was wrong, very wrong. Why wasn't the belt loosening? He pressed the button multiple times! He felt exasperation rising in his chest and coughed once more. The smoke was thickening and he could barely breath now. He truly needed to get out._

_The small child raised the band up and slid his body underneath in order to escape his imprisonment, only to find that the car's floor was steaming. A hoarse yelp of pain left his throat and only made him suck in more smoke. His lungs felt like they were constricting from just trying to get rid of the dreadful air. It was slowly __suffocating him. His hands rummaged around to find the pair of glasses that had slipped off his face when the crash was initiated. His small hand brushed against something soft and he grabbed at it thinking that it was his lens' frame. But oh was he mistakenly wrong. _

_His eyes widened in terror as he felt up the object slowly. A clear image played across his mind as he placed the mental pictures together. It was his brother's leg. Extremely hot and void of life. The child's throat clenched and he whimpered softly. Was his brother-? No! **No! **He wouldn't, couldn't, accept that. It was impossible. In a new found rush of strength the wiry child blindly reached out for the car door, searching for the handle. His finger tips were burning and his skin was on fire, but he ignored the stinging and numbness beginning to spread through his fingers. His hand finally found the handle and he gripped it tightly, yanking the device outward and pushing forward._

_Light blurred his already hazed vision more so and the boy clenched them shut. His head was screaming at him to find shade but the only shade was inside of the scorching vehicle. Which he wasn't particularly keen on venturing deeper inside of. The child swung the door fully open before basking in the display around him. His hand was cut and blistered from the finger tips to his palm. There was blood everywhere, so much red liquid that it had the boy gagging from the sight of it all. _

_His brother wasn't any better. He had a long gash slicing down his leg and blood was pouring out as if it were a waterfall. Each drop that trailed down his brother's leg had the boy cringing. The car was gradually becoming hotter and a low growl could be heard from where the engine was suppose to be. He was running out of time._

_Ignoring the voice telling him to just leave his limp brother there and find safety, the small boy draped his brother over his shoulder as if he was a fragile woman and steadily began to climb out of the car. Every where his skin touched it sent a fire through his nerves. He was going numb in many places and the lack of oxygen had him becoming weaker. But he couldn't give up now. Not when his brother's and his own life was in stake. Not when he was this close to being safe._

_He glanced out of the door and saw that it was laying on it's side, meaning that he would have to jump down. The boy looked back at his legs and saw that he also was blistered and cut there too. What if he fell and made things worse for the both of them? What if his foot got caught and his brother was sent to the burning part of the car? Worry started to settle inside of the boy and he suddenly felt much warier and smaller. What was he doing? He couldn't bring his brother to safety. He was much too weak and scared. Or at least, that's how he felt. _

_A tear escaped his eyes and that only led to more. But as he wept the growling from the engine got louder. His heart stopped and fear overwhelmed every fiber in his being. No. He couldn't be out of time yet. _

_Inhaling a deep breath, the boy rose and focused on the ground below him. He closed his eyes and sent a silent prayer up. And then he jumped. _

_His feet connected with the ground and then he tumbled down, knees sharply pressing against a broken piece of glass. he groaned but once again ignored the pain and looked beside him. Eyes widening as he did so. His brother was staring at him._

_"Alfred?"_

_"Mattie." His voice was weak and tired, sounding as if it took too much energy to talk. A small smile was beginning to form before it turned into a grimace. Poorly hidden pain and fear was held within those sky blue eyes that once lit up the world. Now they were dull and vacant of joy. _

_"Alfred! You're okay!" Matthew exclaimed but he was only met with a sharp intake of breath. What was wrong with his brother? They were no longer smothered in debris and smoke, why was he gasping?_

_"Heh, I don't feel too good Mattie," Alfred wheezed. Why was he talking so slowly and breathing so infrequently? Alarm was threading into Matthew's tear-filled eyes. _

_"Why are you talking like that?"_

_"..."_

_"Alfred," Matthew placed his burning and bloody hand on his brother's shoulder and shook him harshly. His brother gritted his teeth and brushed the hand off quickly. Matthew relaxed a bit. That was just like Alfred, never wanting- Why was his eyes going gray?_

_"Hey Mattie, ya know I love you right?" What was that suppose to mean?_

_"Yeah. But why are you talking like that? Come on Alfie, we need to find Dad." The boy was about to get up but his arm was being latched onto. He glanced back at his brother and found that his eyes were closed, almost peacefully. _

_"Alfred? Wake up," Matthew lightly shook his brother's arm again. Nothing. As time passed with only silence and the roaring of the burning engine, Matthew's shakes were becoming more desperate. He kept having to swallow deep clunks of air stuck in his throat and wiping tears away. Why wasn't Alfred answering him? Was this a dream? A prank? Was this all a joke just to scare him? It was Matthew's birthday, his family would be the cruel ones to play a joke on him just for the laughs. Especially his older brother Alfred. But this would've been stopped by now. Alfred would be laughing and his Dad and Papa would be comforting him by now. So why was Alfred not fully breathing and/or responding? He was violently being shaken now. _

_A small voice could be heard and Matthew's world crashed when all he got after that was silence._

_"Joyeux anniversaire, Mattie. Je t'aime." __Happy birthday, Mattie. I love you._

_Alfred never spoke French._

* * *

**A/N: My first fanfic! Yay!**

**Alfred's not done quite yet.**

**Reviews are for my wonderful readers! And all of you are~**


	2. Chapter 1

**Warning! **This story includes character death... Well, he's already dead... but still. Violence, course language, and rated M themes (I'll alert you whenever a chapter is rated M. But the majority will be T+) Psychotic-ness, fear and all of that good stuff. PruCan, RusAme, and FrUk pairings. Oh yeah, and Germany's the **_older_ **brother in this. Heh, sorry. (Not really)

If you are uncomfortable or disagree with _any _of this, please leave **now **or forever hold your peace.

Now, for you peace holders, enjoy~

P.S. I do not own Hetalia nor do I own it's characters

**Importante! **This is EDITED, and by edited I mean that I changed the -ish out of the story. This new first chapter is completely different from the other (surprise surprise) but it's _way _better. I promise~ And it's long ^u^

* * *

Violet eyes darted around the room, searching for something that would calm his nerve or at least dull the pain. The eyes traveled down the walls with black slime oozing downward, they searched the floors for a glimmer or sparkle, but nothing came as help. This time. All of the other times he could find a shimmer of hope, but this time everything was dark besides the one light bulb illuminating the area in front and slightly around of him.

Matthew felt a stray tear travel down his reddened cheek and he groaned in exhaust. He blinked away yet another tear but they wouldn't stop coming. The boy whimpered, his noises muffled by the tape against his mouth and cheeks. He inhaled the sharp intoxicating scent of the duct tape and grimaced. The tape was reeking of sharpie or permanent marker, his head already thumping from the continual intake of poisonous fumes. Matthew futilely kicked his feet but found that they were also bound by tape, along with his abdomen and legs. He needed a way out almost as much as he needed it_ that_ day.

_"Wake up!" _His mind screamed, hoping to wake himself up. _"C'mon! Wake up already!" _The boy thrashed in the seat, arms and legs attempting to stretch the tape strapping him to the chair. He pushed up and crashed back; the chair rocking only a little. Aggregation welled in his chest and now Matthew was gasping behind the tape for much needed air. Clean, fresh air.

The tape moistened from Matthew's panting and limply fluttered to the ground, leaving him thanking whoever was listening above and sucking in the sweet taste of oxygen. Though, as he continued his thanks, a soft creak sounded from across the room. Matthew froze in his movements, his body shaking from the sheer fear of what caused it. Small tears formed in his eyes but he couldn't blink them away before they fell. His body wouldn't allow him to even blink.

The soft creaks began resounding throughout the room. First from the left, then from the right. It sounded as if they were coming from everywhere simultaneously. The creaks grew louder until Matthew was able to distinguish them as wheels scrapping against the debris covered floor. The movements were slow, so agonizingly slow, that Matthew just wanted to die from the suspense. It was too much for his withering heart.

A bedroom mirror stood sturdy on a wooden easel directly across from Matthew.

Matthew stared into the reflection. His heart tightening before violently pounding against his chest. He felt his blood drain and a splitting cold overwhelmed him. His lungs were no longer functioning, refusing to breathe in any sort of air. A hollow wave of pain caressed Matthew's skull, but he didn't notice any of this. He couldn't notice it, because everything inside of him had shut down once he saw those dull eyes.

Blue, those brilliant blue eyes that once told of the joys in life were now murky and unclear. But they focused on Matthew, boring into Matthew's purple eyes, watching him and waiting for the right chance to mock him. Always ridiculing him, chastising forever.

"Stop," Matthew loosely shook his head and tried to break the stare, but his eyes remained locked on those dead ones. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Tears once again prickled his eyes and trailed down his cheeks and chin. He gasped for air, his lungs finally allowing him to breathe.

"Al... I tried, okay? I'm s-sorry. I wa-watched you d-die and I c-couldn't do anything ab-b-bout it." The tears began to flow freely and Matthew forced his gaze away and held his eyes shut. He couldn't stand to look in his deceased brother's eyes anymore. It made him remember looking into them seconds before Alfred died, watching them turn from a beautiful sky blue color into a haze of grey. It all happened so fast; the car crash, regaining consciousness, saving them, watching Alfred die, the explosion, the funeral. Matthew spent years wishing that he could go back in time and stop himself from asking to go see Papa at work. They could've waited, and he knew that they _should've _waited. But no, he was too impatient.

"Alfred, I said I was s-sorry," there was an edge to Matthew's voice, anger, he supposed. His voice rose and his bound hands clenched into fists, but the tears flowed more openly and he still couldn't open his eyes in fright of what he might see. "Why wont you forgive me already? I've tried so hard to forgive myself! Haven't you seen all of the times that I spent crying because it was my fault that you've died?! What do you want me to do? Suffer all the way until I'm old and about to die myself? You know I would do that for you! I'll do anything for you..."

A cold breeze shook the boy and he felt his whole body tremble. Matthew glanced up and into the mirror. No reflection was in it, not even one of himself. The cold traveled back around and the hairs on the back of Matthew's neck stood. He needed to get out. he needed to get out _now. _

"S-somebody! Somebody help me!" His mind went into panic mode; forcing his eyes to search the room for any way of escape, his body wiggling to loosen the the tape around him, his feet scraping at the tape binding them. Matthew hopped in his seat, the chair bouncing wildly and making loud clanking sounds. "Somebody help me! Help me! Please! Somebody!"

His vision was blurring and he could only make out shapes and colors now. Nothing was precise anymore and Matthew figured that his glasses must have fallen.

He felt a burning cold brush his shoulders and travel upward until it was planted on his temples; and then it began to push inward.

"A-ah!"

A sinister snicker erupted from the side of Matthew and the being applied more force to the crushing. The pain was unbearable! Numbing everything but the coursing of headache throbs, burning eyes, and the fracturing of bone. Matthew could no longer cry and his shouts for help became garbled in a mix of groans. His teeth clenched together in an excruciating grimace.

But the spirit only delighted in his pain.

"You said you'll die for me, didn't you Mattie?" It's frozen voice etched a picture of death into Matthew's mind. All he could see was blue, depths and deep abysses of pure blue, and then grey started to settle in where the blue use to be. Stone, cold, grey.

"Remember Mattie," something cracked in Matthew's skull and red flooded his vision, "always keep your word."

...

Matthew awoke with a piercing headache and a minor case of lock jaw. His vision gradually came into focus and he realized that he was in his bedroom. He sat up, still catching his breath in shallow gasps, and took his glasses from the bed stand to his right. "I can't see without you," Matthew humorlessly chuckled as he slid the glasses on. He took another second to adjust to the fine details his glasses graced him with and flopped back onto his off-white comforter.

It was the fifth time this week that Matthew had gotten that dream. The other four had been at least remotely the same, but this one, no, it was highly different. There was no spark of color to give him a hope for survival, he could feel _everything, _and it was as if he was literally there. While in the other dreams, Matthew's view of it wasn't as detailed and his senses were numbed. The spirit never left the mirror and he would only wake up in a heavy sweat. So why was this one different?

Matthew sighed while tilting his head back against his pillow. He was not up for questions right now, mostly because of the throbbing headache beating a hammer into his skull and the soft roar coming from his stomach. What he _was _in the mood for was some delicious fresh baked pancakes; and damn sure was he going to get them.

After a thirty minute long shower full of trying to forget his horrid dream and scouring away the sticky sweat that layered his skin, Matthew's stomach was causing an uproar and his headache was complaining about the atrocious gargling noises. "Hold on pal," Matthew patted himself in a failed attempt at calming his stomach, "You'll get food soon enough."

He rounded the bottom of the stairwell and sped into the kitchen. His stomach was beginning to cave in. "Papa? Oh, good morning Papa. Would you mind if I make some pancakes really fast?" Matthew asked as he took out a bowl and a whisk.

His papa, Francis, was scrubbing some dishes in the sink. "Go ahead," he said without giving Matthew a glance or 'good morning', "just make sure to clean up your mess before Arthur gets down here."

"Before Arthur gets down here what?" The British father entered the kitchen with his brown leather briefcase in hand. A black tie hung loosely around his neck and his white dress shirt laid un-tuck over his black slacks.

"Oh nothing, nothing."

"Good morning Dad," Matthew went up to his dad, still whisking the batter, and kissed his cheek chastely.

"Well hello there mate. Finally, a child with proper manners, it is so hard to find them these days." Arthur poured some tap water into the tea kettle and passed beside Matthew to put the kettle on.

"Oui, it is a shame isn't it? But no such worries, today is a special day!" Matthew's eyebrow arched and he was given a flabbergasted look from his papa. "Matthew, what day is today?"

The teen looked over at the calendar hanging on the refrigerator. "Monday?"

"Le gasp! Have you forgotten what this day is?" Matthew had the urge to say _"I guess. I mean, if you just had a nightmare about being killed by your dead brother's spirit graphically, you wouldn't remember everything now would you?" _but he decided against it.

"Go on...?"

The tea kettle's high pitch siren went off and Arthur took it off the stove. "What the Frog is trying to say is that you've forgotten his god-forsaken birthday. Happy now Francis?" Arthur shrugged his shoulders and went to grab a tea bag from the cabinet.

"Oh man, Papa, I really didn't know... I'm sorry." Matthew's headache worsened from the use of the two words. _If I have to use those words anymore today, I swear I am going to kill someone__, _he thought while flipping a pancake.

"How could you forget? You are my son, sons do not forget their papa's birthday, now do they?" Francis placed the last wet dish into the drainer and tore the latex gloves from his hands.

"No, Papa," Matthew whispered as he grabbed a halfway dry plate from the drainer and stacked his pancakes on it.

"Hey Matthew, mind giving your old dad one of those?" Arthur would've cooked his own breakfast, but for some strange reason his family (_whole_ family) banned him from cooking. His ban from _entering _the kitchen had just recently been removed. Matthew took another plate, placed two pancakes on it (he didn't make as much) and then handed it to his dad.

"Syrup?" He asked but a soft "no" was given as an answer. Matthew turned off the stove and tossed the dishes into the sink before heading for the table. But before he had a chance to sit down, he just remembered something. "Oh, Papa, did you want something to eat?"

"_Now _you ask? I've been patiently waiting for you to be ever-so-kind but I guess that I'm suppose to be forgotten on my birthday."

"Oh shut it Frog," Arthur pointed his fork at Francis and swallowed his mouth full of dry pancakes, "maybe if you didn't act like every bloody day was your birthday then we'll find it special."

"But everyday should be thought of as special. It only makes sense _Angelterre." _

"Why do you insist on calling me 'England' in that horrid language of yours?"

Francis pressed his hand to his chest dramatically, "My French is more elegant than the 'Queen's English'."

"You take that back to crumby Frog!"

"Non."

Matthew watched as his parents got into yet another argument. He chewed the pancake slowly as his mind began to drift from reality and lead him back into his dream.

It began with him trying to decipher the meaning as to why Alfred was in a mirror. Why couldn't Alfred had just been in front of him, like the average spirit? Why did Alfred try to kill him? Why was he even having that dream? Matthew shook his head slightly, bringing himself back into the noise of his arguing parents. What were they fussing about now? Cake? Cream?

Matthew's fingers fidgeted around the fork, unable to get a good grip on it. He poked his tongue out a little, a small habit of his since he was young. Young. The word felt alien in his mind and he silently spoke it, twisting the word on his tongue and letting it move on its own. Childhood memories flooded into Matthew's mind simultaneously but one stood out from all of them. It was one of him and Alfred; they were somewhere inside of a dark place, cold and barely used. But something had caught their attention and Alfred was venturing deeper inside of the room. Deeper... deeper... What were they looking at? Deeper... Darker the room became... Was that a shine? Darker...

"Matthew! You need to leave _now _or you're going to miss the bus!" Arthur was suddenly behind Matthew, yanking him up out of the chair and flinging the boy's backpack at him. "Go!"

Matthew stumbled away from his father, still in a daze, and ran out the house while slugging the pack around his shoulder. He dashed through the lawn and jumped over the fence. For some reason he had a lot of energy. Too much energy. It made Matthew feel as though he was floating, and he didn't like it one bit.

His feet were moving on their own and his backpack was swinging behind him. He caught glimpse of the yellow bus turning the corner and his legs seemingly moved faster. He stomped down once he reached the bus stop and gasped for breath as the bus pulled up beside him.

...

"Yo Matt, what's up?" The raspy voice of Gilbert Beilschmidt rung in Matthew's ears. He was about to turn around in his seat to look behind him but the in-denial-albino took the space beside him.

"What are you-"

"Hey, Matt, can I talk to you for a sec?" Gilbert's head was hung low and a small bead of sweat slid down the side of his face. Matthew was taken by surprise. Out of all of his years of being best friends with Gilbert, the only other time that he'd seen him like this was when his bird, Gilbird, flew away. It was very distressing.

"Uh, sure. Whatever you want... I guess." He patiently waited for the albino to speak... And waited... "Gil? Are you going to talk or not?"

"I-I am! The awesome me is just sorting out... whatever I was going to... tell... you." Gilbert went back to staring down at his hands, which were formally laid flat in his lap. This was _not _the 'Gilbert' Matthew knew.

"Look, Gil, I'm trying to listen to you. But in order for me to listen I have hear you talk. So please, tell me what's wrong."

Gilbert gave Matthew a half smile before squirming. He pressed his thumbs together and attempted at pulling his knees close, but the leather chair in front of them wasn't having that. The Prussian teen sighed, "Eliz and I broke up."

"Huh?"

"I said, I am no longer dating Elizaveta. She told me that we weren't quite working out and that I deserved someone far more 'awesome'. The bitch dumped me." Gilbert's voice held a slight edge to it.

"Hey! Don't call her a bitch. I know you're mad and all but you shouldn't crudely insult her like that."

"Pfft, all I did was call her by her name. She left me for that prissy Roderich guy. I'm way more awesome than him! And I have a bigger di-"

"I don't wanna know that!"

"But now you do! She left me for the prude and now I'm feeling all depressed and shit because she broke up with me _first. _Shouldn't it be the other way around?" Gilbert buried his chin in his orange scarf and closed his eyes. Though anger was a prominent emotion displaying on his face, some hidden hurt could be seen.

An awkward atmosphere held in the space between them. Matthew didn't know what to say or do. He'd thought that Eliziveta and Gilbert would last at least all year, but that wasn't the case right now. He shifted and accidentally brushed his hand against Gil's and the Prussian looked up briefly. "What?"

"Oh, um, nothing?" _How much lamer can you get? _Matthew mentally scolded himself and a light pink blush crossed his cheeks. "It was an acciden-"

_Whoosh. _The bus doors flew open and a heat wave ran down the aisle as students stood in a hurried attempt to get off the bus. An audible sigh of relief left Matthew when Gilbert shrugged and stood to exit as well.

_Can you say saved by the bus? _Matthew smirked at the pun.

...

Matthew flung himself into the cold again, wrapping the scarf around his tender neck so many times that there was barely anything left out of the tight loop. He rounded the corner and came into view of his home. Balancing the many textbooks folded under his arms, Matthew scurried to the door and dug in his pocket for his house key. After two turns the door's lock clicked and Matthew pushed inside.

Dark. Everything was dark. The blinds were unfolded and blocking out sunlight, all of the windows were closed and no lights were on. A cold was drifting throughout the house and Matthew felt himself tremble from fear. It was almost like his-

"SURPRISE!"

It was as if Matthew's heart crumbled and burst at the same time. He had noticed the shadow by the wall, but he wasn't expecting to blink and see all of the lights on and green eyes with bushy eyebrows in his face. "What the fuck?!" Matthew lost balance and landed on his behind.

"Matthew! Don't use such a bloody foul word! I taught you bloody better than that!" _Says the man who curses in English slang, _Matthew bit his tongue to keep from saying that; he didn't want to argue with his dad.

"Oh, crap, I'm sorry. But what was all of that for?" Matthew asked as he composed himself and stood.

Arthur grunted before answering, "It was for Francis, I thought that it would be him..."

"But I get home earlier than Papa. You should've known it was me."

"Francis decided to get off of work early because it was his birthday, the frog. He even said that he would get home before you did."

"...Why didn't you just look out the window and see who it was?"

Silence. "Dad? Really?" A smile played at Matthew's lips as he watch him dad sputter from embarrassment. When a bright red blush planted itself on Arthur's cheeks, the man finally gave up and stormed out of the living room while murmuring something along the lines of: "Bloody frog and stupid son..."

Matthew laid out on the couch and kicked his shoes off. He rested his head on the back of the pillow and closed his eyes, hoping for an hour of peaceful dreaming. Matthew was on the edge of reality when a thunderous voice boomed throughout the living room -the whole house actually- and the boy's eyes flew open.

"I'm hoooooome~ _Je me demande si ma merveilleuse famille m'attend?" _

"Uggggghhhh!" Matthew slammed the plush pillow into his face and flopped over on the couch. The next groan came from up the stairs and was rather irritated.

Francis face fell instantly. "You guys do not want moi here? Well then, I think that I will take my leave, since I'm unwanted here..." Francis walked towards the door and peeked back at Matthew; who was beginning to snore.

Okay, plan B. "I'm about to leave! Since you guys do not appreciate me! Goodbye!" He opened the door then peeked again.

Matthew was drooling on the pillow and his glasses were gradually slipping off of his face.

Francis huffed out some air and flipped his hair. He kicked the door shut and stormed over to the couch where Matthew was. He got on his knees and leaned over to reach Matthew's ear, pressing his lips against it. "HOW CAN ONE NOT APPRECIATE MOI'S BEAUTY? I AM HOME DAMN IT! WAKE THE HELL UP!"

"What the maple?!" Matthew jumped off of the couch and stared down at his papa. "Why'd you scream in my ear?!"

"I did not scream, I spoke very loudly."

"What the bloody 'ell is going on? Francis? Why are you late?" Arthur dragged himself down the steps looking as if he'd just been through The Struggle.

"Mon Dieu, what has happened to my love? He's become... horrendous-er."

"Hey! I just woke up for your information. And why are you late?"

"Traffic."

"Traffic?"

"Oui. Traffic."

"Traffic does not make you an hour and a half late!"

"Oui, it does."

"Nuh-uh!"

"Uh-huh!"

"Nuh-uh!"

"Un-huh!"

By this time, Matthew was on the verge of punching the wall. His parents were like children whenever they argued. He wished that he could just walk up and slap both of them and tell them to shut up. But, that would only make matters worse, right?

"Papa..."

"Frog!"

"Dad?"

"Un-fashionable toad!"

"Papa..."

"Take that back!"

"Dad..."

"Never!"

"Oh my God would you two just shut up?" Matthew threw the pillow off his head and sat up. He felt a vein pulse in his head and that only angered him further. Matthew made his way up the stairs and when he was met with two scolding glares (though one was directed at their spouse) he just shook his head and carried on. Once inside of his sound-proof (for now) hostility, Matthew threw himself on the bed and drifted off into a fitful sleep.

...

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Francis~ Happy birthday to you!" Matthew half-heartily sung along. His heart felt heavy and he could vaguely remember his dream. The only thing that he could see was the eyes. Those cold eyes were plunged into the darkest fold of his mind and were beginning to come front. He felt his fingers begin to shake and soon enough he was cold.

The table was crowded with friends of Francis. Francis's old friend, Antonio, Yao Wang who was his previous boss, Feliciano (friend), Ludwig (Gilbirt's oldest brother), and some others who Matthew didn't care about enough to actually put a name to their face. All he heard was joyous chatter and munching. Oh yeah, they were eating, wont they?

"Matthew, are you alright? You haven't touched your food yet." Ludwig placed his hand on Matthew's forehead but the boy shook it off.

"I'm fine Mr. Beilschmidt, thank you though," Matthew received a tight nod from the German before he turned to converse with Feliciano. Matthew internally groaned. He didn't want to be there at the moment, why did he have to stay? It wasn't as if he didn't care for his Papa's birthday, it just happened to occur at the wrong time.

"Matthew, what's wrong?" Matthew opened his eyes to once again see green eyes and eyebrows.

"Dad, you don't have to be so close, and I'm fine."

The boy faked a smile just to please his worried parent. Arthur backed off the boy but made sure to examine him thoroughly. "Well, I guess you look fine, but try to enjoy yourself. You know, Gilbert will be coming over here in a bit." Matthew's ear involuntarily perked up and he slowly lifted his head. "Ludwig called him over because he didn't want him in the house by himself; I guess that it works both ways. Gilbert's safe and you have someone to talk to, how about that?"

"I'd like that Dad. Oh, and um, thanks," Matthew had to raise his voice just to be heard from the rising level of noise. Arthur ruffled Matthew's barely combed hair and gave him a smile. A whole smile, and Matthew smiled back.

...

"That's nice Gil."

"I know, totally awesome right?" Gilbert took the medal cross from Matthew and hung it around his neck. The necklace was given to him by Ludwig. His older brother had earned it while fighting in a war and now that once prized possession of Ludwig's is now Gil's. "Luddy's awesome too. Not as much as me, but he's no where near lame... Most of the time." To emphasize his point, Gilbert waved his arm in Ludwig's direction... Who was showing his _socks _off to Feliciano.

Matthew erupted into a fit of laughter. "Yeah, yeah, he's showing off his _socks _to Feli. And? Those...rubber...ducky...socks are amazingly... You know what? Fuck it, I don't care." Gilbert crossed his arms and turned so his back was facing Matthew, and blocking the Canadian's view of Ludwig.

"Gil, I was just laughing. If you saw my dad in a pirate's costume you would've laughed."

"Why would he be in a pirate's-"

"Never mind. Forget I ever said that." That was _not _something Matthew wanted to explain to his friend. Gilbert shrugged his shoulders and went over to where Matthew was sitting cross-legged on the carpet. Matthew yelped as he was yanked up by his arm and hurled towards the kitchen. As if Gilbert knew what Matthew was about to ask, the Prussian said, "They're about to cut the cake and I want to choose my piece."

"Just because you go in there first doesn't mean that you're going to-"

"I want the biggest piece," Gilbert sternly interrupted. He squeezed Matthew's shoulders to show his seriousness. The boy whimpered in protest but surrendered to being carried into the kitchen.

It happened when Francis was preparing to slice the cake. Matthew felt the striking cold split his spine and ride up his muscles. His face paled, but since the only light source was the candles, nobody noticed. It seemed as if everything began to slow down, and Matthew was the only one capturing the terrifying images.

Behind Francis hung an oval mirror on the wall. With earthly brown spirals coming off on the sides, the mirror castes a calm aura into the atmosphere. But it wasn't the mirror itself that was chilling Matthew, it was the figure inside.

As the black shadow moved, Matthew felt its cold glare lock onto him. No matter how many times Matthew would fidget or move, the stare was stuck on him. It had Matthew wanting to scream, and cry, and run away all at once, but the watch held him down. A solemn tear built in his eye, but for some reason, his body wouldn't move. He was paralyzed from the sheer fear erupting inside of him.

Matthew was no longer aware of the outside world, his thoughts only focused on the formation of the demonic spirit that has been haunting him for the past week. The demonic spirit that has been sending Matthew off of the rail and stumbling toward the deep-end. It was demonic spirit that had Matthew crawling into the lowest and darkest parts of his room praying for any kind of relief. But it was the spirit that had Matthew's heart aching and feeling the hurt from so many years ago.

Those black eyes shimmered and changed into a smokey blue; a contrast against the inky black webs and shadows emitting from the being. A sharp tongue poked out, dragging it's way across where the mouth should've been and leaving a trail of drool behind it. The demonic being kept it's gaze on Matthew, only on Matthew, and a smirk found it's place on it.

Everything in Matthew told him to look away, no, it _screamed _and _cried out _for Matthew to look away. Matthew's train of thought had been vanished and he was left with only one word fumbling through his head. _Alfred. _

_"Hey, Mattie,"_ Matthew cringed as the being telepathically spoke his name, since it's mouth didn't move. _"Why do you look so scared?"_ The demon's head tilted to the side and it's smoked blue eyes widened. _"I wont hurt you."_ Matthew wanted to laugh at the statement. He clenched his hands, finding that he did have some control over his body now. _"It's just that..."_ The spirit disappeared from the mirror, vanishing with no trail.

The fear that had lounged inside of Matthew quickly transformed into pure terror. Matthew felt the cold leave and he was left feeling sick. Sound was beginning to seep into Matthew's senses and the light headache the was approaching seemed to back off.

"Matthew?" The teen could hardly register Gilbert's voice.

"Gil?" His vision was coming into focus and a feeling of hope was coming back into Matthew. He just had to reach out and-

The demon forced its way in front of Matthew and held eyes with him. It pushed against Matthew, screeching in an unknown tongue and thrashing the boy about. Matthew felt its ice chilled claws gripping into his skin but not drawing any blood. He felt multiple screams hollow out in his throat and all Matthew could do was stare into the eyes. Those forever cold blue eyes.

"A-aah!"

* * *

**A/N: Longer than I thought but... *Shrugs**

**This is just the beginning, more Alfie later!**

_Constructive criticism is a bitch_

_But I love female dogs_

_Follows/Favorites are my twins_

_I guess now that I'm a teenage mom_

_Reviews are my favorite foods_

_I'm hungry, I need to eat_

If you understood this, do it

To those who are confused: Reviews, follows/favorites are accepted~


	3. Chapter 2

**Hold up! **If you have not read the first chapter (not the prologue, the _first chapter) _please go back and read it. I have changed it drastically and you will _not _understand the rest of the story if you do not read it. Comprend...e? I'm no good with Spanish...

**Warning! **This story includes character(s?) death, violence, course language, and rated M themes (I'll alert you whenever a chapter is rated M. But the majority will be T+) Psychotic-ness, fear and all of that good stuff. PruCan, RusAme, and FrUk pairings. Germany's Prussia's **older **bro!

If you are uncomfortable or disagree with _any _of this, please leave **now **or read on.

Now, for all of you who wants ta read on, enjoy~

P.S. Hetalia is not mine! Though if it was, it'll be based off of fanfictions! (Beautiful ones of course)

* * *

Matthew's breath hitched as the demon continued to stare at him with those mocking eyes. He could feel the numerous stares of confusion by the guests, but none of those pulled his attention away from the demon. If Matthew wasn't as scared as he was, he would've punched that sinister grin off of it's face. But currently, he was too chilled to the bone in fear.

"Matthew! Hey, Matthew! What's your problem bro?" Matthew's mouth opened to reply to Gilbert's concern but nothing came out. He was left wide-eyed with his mouth gaping like a fish.

Arthur and Francis ran over to their son, the knife dropping from the French's hand onto the floor. "My dear boy, what is bothering you?" Arthur was searching the room for any kind of terror, his fatherly instincts overwhelming whatever churning was in his stomach.

Francis knelt down beside him. _"Mon petit garçon, dis-moi, quel est le problème?" _Francis gripped his son's hand, grasping it for dear life. Along with his husband, Francis' stomach was doing flips.

Somehow, Gilbert was pushed away from Matthew. The boy's face was beginning to color again and his breathing was starting to regulate. But Gilbert felt hurt. Was he not helping? But Matthew's his best friend, of course he was helping... Ludwig came up beside Gilbert and grabbed his shoulder. "It'll be alright."

"Sure," Gilbert said while shaking off his older brother's hand. The boy then walked away, not noticing the lingering gaze from the person he was desperate for attention from.

...

"Dad, I'm okay. Go back to the party."

"No," Arthur sternly said. He placed the cool wet rag on top Matthew's forehead, finding that his son had a burning fever, and lightly kissed his temple. "Francis is downstairs telling the guests that nothing bad has happened to you and that there'll be a re-party sometime next week." The Brit kissed Matthew's temple again and the boy squirmed in embarrassment. He was sixteen, he didn't need _this _kind of attention from his father. "Really Matthew, what was bothering you?"

Matthew choked. He was about to tell his dad about the demon, those dreams, and Alfred. But what would happen if he did? Would the demon go after Arthur? Would it worsen? Matthew shook the thought out of his head; no, he couldn't risk the peace his dad had finally found.

"It was nothing. I guess that I just kind of freaked. Heh."

Arthur raised a brow, "Over what?"

_Great thinking Matt. _"Uh... You know... Gravity?"

"Gravity?"

"Yes. Gravity."

"You freaked out because of gravity?"

"Yes?"

Arthur stroked his son's hair before standing up. "You git, you sound like the Frog." Matthew chuckled at the nickname for his papa. It brought back happy memories from when they first became a family. "Promise that you'll tell me later?" Arthur held out his pinky finger for Matthew to take.

The boy was puzzled for a moment. "Oh, sure," Matthew wrapped his little finger around his dad's and watched as he departed. Matthew waited until he heard his dad's bedroom door shut and then snuggled underneath his covers. His glasses brushed up his nose and nudged him between the eyes. "Ow. Night night you go," the boy took his glasses off and placed them down on his bed stand after folding them.

...

Francis waved the tenants away after encouraging them to leave. He sighed as he shut the front door, leaning against it for leverage. The French rubbed his eyes, feeling a sudden drowsiness slip upon him. He staggered to the chair, the overwhelming tired feeling numbing his will to climb up the steps.

"Francis?" An English voice stopped Francis from conquering his sleep and the man faced his husband. Who was snugged up in a velvet blanket with matching socks and green boxers. Arthur made his way over to Francis and squeezed into what little space was left on the couch.

"Francis? Francis? Wake up already." Arthur prodded his lover's nose lightly, his tongue poking out from the corner of his mouth. A light blush brushed Arthur's cheeks when Francis pushed their noses together, opening his eyes to gaze into emerald ones.

"Oui? _Quel est-il mon amour?" _Francis leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to Arthur's lips.

"Nngh. Stop. We need to talk."

"Talk about what?" Francis attempted to kiss Arthur again but the Brit pushed him away.

"Sit up, we have to talk about Matthew." At those words Francis shot up -not before stealing some blankets from Arthur for warmth though-.

There was a period of silence. One where both Arthur and Francis contemplated on how to start the conversation. The tension in the room was almost visible.

"Arthur, what's happening to our son?"

"I don't know."

"He's not the way that he use to be."

"I can tell." This angered Francis and the man took Arthur's chin, tilting his head up to lock all attention on him. He made sure to keep from bringing Arthur too close; that would only result in some inappropriate activities.

"Arthur, look at me. Look! What do you think? Does this have something to do with Alfred? Is that what your thinking? What could possibly be wrong with him?"

Arthur simply shook his head as best as he could. He forced his eyes closed, trying to hold back the tears stinging them. "Francis... I don't know." Francis loosened his grip and Arthur pulled away. "Why? Why do you think he panicked? He was fine the whole morning..."

"No. Non. There was something wrong with him. _Je le savais. _He was too quiet. Not our adorable Matthieu quiet, but something was surely bothering him."

"Alfred?"

"Alfred. Alfred." Francis pictured his child, running around the house destroying everything he touched and then trying to repair them himself. So many times Alfred had been scolded for running around the house. Now, Francis wished very much to have something broken by Alfred's hands.

Arthur ruffled his already wild hair before laying back against Francis' shoulder. "I just don't want Matthew to leave us. We've lost Alfred, and we're _not _losing Matthew. I love him too much to let him go."

Francis relaxed into the cushion, "I do too. I love him too."

...

Matthew stared up at his bedroom ceiling. He was too frightened to go to sleep, too frightened to even close his eyelids. What if he saw Alfred? What if he saw the demon? So Matthew decided to stay awake. Another sleepless night to live through.

...

The Canadian stretched out his back, feeling the need to pop the 'bubble' in it. _This is killing me...literally. I really need to see a sleep-therapist or something, _Matthew thought as he watched Gilbert fill in the blank spot next to him. "When did you start sitting beside me? You usually sit in front or behind."

"Hey, don't question the awesome me." Gilbert grinned and scooted an inch closer to Matthew.

_Weird... _"So, um, sorry about... y'know, yesterday."

"It's okay."

"Huh?" Disbelief and relief ran through Matthew and he felt a welcomed shiver travel down his spine.

"I said that it was okay, _okay?" _Gilbert jabbed Matthew's forehead with his index finger and laughed when Matthew's face turned a pale pink. Matthew puffed out his cheeks like a child, "Stop it Gil."

"Aw, but you look so adorable Matt." To emphasize his point, Gilbert pinched Matthew's cheek and tugged on it.

"Mmmph! S-stop it." Gilbert ignored Matthew's protest and used his other hand to pinch the boy's other cheek. "G-Gil. That's e-embarrassing... S-s-stop it."

"But Matt, you look so adorable~ Kesesese."

Matthew's eye twitched. That was one annoying laugh. They continued like this until a certain female walked on the bus.

"Good morning Matthew. Gilbert." Her gaze focused on Gilbert, she turned up her nose and walked back up the aisle.

"G-Gil?" Oh, no. Matthew knew what was coming.

"That dumb bitch! What the fuck does she mean by 'Gilbert'? Who the fuck does she think she is?" Gilbert punched the back of the seat in front of them. Hard. The person in it turned back to say some words but then saw how furious Gilbert was and squeaked in fear. "Yeah? You want to say something? Well, say it!"

"I-I... Um-"

"Don't be such a pussy. Say your goddamn words!" Gilbert punched the back of the leather seat again. He was beginning to draw wandering eyes, a pair of them belonging to Eliziveta.

"IwasjustgoingtosaythatIthink youlooknicetoday! Please don't hurt me!" The teen then dropped down into his seat and soft whimpering noises could be heard.

"Gil! That wasn't nice!" Matthew gave Gilbert a chastising glare but it was quickly shot down with a shrug.

"And? Like the awesome me cares."

"All of that because of Elizivet-"

"Don't say her name!" Gilbert whispered, pressing his hand against Matthew's mouth in a sudden motion to stop the name. "I do not want un-welcomed attention, you sack of saggy balls!"

Matthew's expression twisted in disgust. "That doesn't even deserve a reply."

"Thank you." The doors then flew open and the cluster of students hustled off of the bus. Gilbert made sure to wait until Eliziveta was off before leading Matthew out and onto school property.

...

_The wind blew cold, cold air into the streets; children running about and throwing collaborations of snow, dirt, and whatever else was on the ground at each other. He kept his stride up, feeling the need to exempt an aura of power around himself. It kept outsiders away. Weak, lighthearted ones. This barrier was the only protection from the cold, the only protection from the reasons why he hated life. Well, his new life, if you wanted to be exact. But, his day was approaching. The day that his long-term plan was finally going to come to an end and until then, he was going to enjoy every aspect of this rotten hell that many called 'life'. _

_Life. He knew life. He once inhaled life and exhaled joy. _Once, _that was the key word. _

_"Sir? Hey, sir! Can you hand me my shoe? It fell off." A girl with long white hair came across him. Her pale strands were tainted with something. Something wet, red, and with an iron smell..._

_"Siiiiiiir. May you hand me my shoe?" She was now showing her teeth; those sharp, filed teeth that held the strange mused color to it also. Her snake-like tongue licked her lips and she was eyeing the man as if he was her dinner. Which, if he wasn't holding up his guard, he would've been. _

_"Go away, I will not fall for your shoe trick, Mary." _

_"Hssss. You are too smart for your own good." Mary began circling around the man, her tongue sneaking out more often. "Too smart for someone who does not belong in _this _world." _

_The man felt the cold develop fiercely around him, ready to swallow him, but he learnt from that mistake. Rule #3: Always keep moving. __He fled behind the girl with unrealistic speed and stepped back when she spun around. A lethal smile was holding on her chapped lips. Her eyes shone crimson and her stained teeth were once again peeling away at the smile. That crazed look, the man almost pitied her for her insanity. Almost. _

_"Don't you have friends to play with?" _

_"No. I already played with them," her expression went soft for a second but reappeared with her eyes widened and mouth dripping that strange liquid. "I want a new toy." The man staggered back as Mary attacked at full speed, her hand slicing a hole into his overcoat. "Co'mon toy. Lets play." Mary smiled up at the man before kicking him the shin, a bone splitting impact, and then elbowing his nose. _

_The man cupped his burning nose, blood gushing out of it from only one hit. He's messed with the wrong one. He messed with Mary too soon. In a futile attempt to escape, the man dashed through the snow, knowing all-too-well that the girl was a god in this weather. _

_"Toy! Do you want to play hide-and-seek? I'll play with you." The man stopped, his knowledge of Mary telling him to play along or die. "I wanna play hide-and-seek. Play with me." _

_The man turned to face her, seeing that a genuine childish want had taken over her murderous look. "Sure. I'll play it with you." _

_"Yippy! But you should know that I'm the best at the game. Okay? Oh and I do have rules." _

Rules? _The man was now beginning to think that this was a bad idea. "What are they?"_

_Mary jumped once in the air and clapped twice. "I haven't had a willing friend to play hide-and-seek with in over a hundred years! This'll be fun, don't ya think?" The man just nodded in response. "Rule number one: you have to hide in less than thirty seconds. I don't do bonus counts. And, here's one you'll like, rule number two: if I win, I get to eat you for a snack! How cool is that?" _

_The man felt whatever food was in his stomach start to churn and twist. He swallowed down a lump in his throat. "But, if you win, then I wont ask you to play hide-and-seek with me ever again. Unless you want to of course. Um, I think that's all, base is that big tree right over there with the leaves." The man was about to run when she suddenly gripped the bottom of his jacket, "Oh yeah, you can't hide behind base. That's cheating, which means that I'll automatically win." She then turned on her heel and trotted away from the man, leaving him to get a head start to his hiding place. _

_"Ready?" _

_"Yes!" He shouted, halfway there. _

_"Lets begin then. One! Two! Three! Four! Five!" _

_The man ran. He ran for what little life he had left. Fear twinged in the depth of his stomach and mind and he didn't like it one bit. How did a little girl tear his defense of power down?_

_"Thirteen! Fourteen! Fifteen!" _

_His feet dug into the snow, some tainted with the same liquid that had bleached the girl's lips, teeth, and hair. Where had all of the children gone? _

_"Twenty-seven! Twenty-eight! Twenty-nine!" _

_The man felt his heart pound against his chest. He tumbled inside of a log close enough to the ginormous tree but not directly behind it. He was _not _planning on breaking any rules. The thunderous noise of blood rushed through his head and that was all that he could hear. Cold was all that he could feel. Cold, dark grey, cold. Why did it burn so much?_

_Mary's sing-song voice exploded in the man's ears, "Ready or not, here I come!"_

* * *

**"Mon petit garçon, dis-moi, quel est le problème?" **= My little boy, tell me, what is the problem?

**"Quel est-il mon amour?" **= What is it my love?

**"Je le savais." **= I knew it

Sorry for the long wait you guys~ I'm running two accounts here

Things are getting better, but the stories' barely at its initiating event. If you didn't notice, this is much shorter than the new first chapter. Well, I was in my 'zone' so I wrote a lot. Heh, sorry?

_Constructive criticism is a bitch_

_But I love female dogs_

_Follows/Favorites are my twins_

_I guess now that I'm a teenage mom_

_Reviews are my favorite foods_

_I'm hungry, I need to eat_

If you understood this, do it

To those who are confused: Reviews, follows/favorites are accepted~


	4. Chapter 3

**Warning! **This story includes character(s?) death, violence, coarse language, and rated M themes (I'll alert you when a chapter is rated M. But the majority will be T+) Psychotic-ness, fear and all of that good stuff. PruCan, RusAme, and FrUk pairings. Germany's Prussia's **older **bro! **  
**

If you are uncomfortable or disagree with _any _of this, please leave **now **or be good and read on

Now, for all of you striving to not be on the naughty list (pfft, Santa), enjoy~

P.S. Hetalia is not mine, yadda-yadda-yadda. Why are there disclaimers in stories anyway? Of course we don't own the fandom...

P.S.S. Sorry for the long wait, I'm mourning (my aunt passed away because of lung cancer)

* * *

_"Ready or not, here I come." The man felt his spine go cold, his breath stopping and his heart racing. Snow, dark gray snow fell slowly, collecting on the ground; covering his many foot prints. Foot prints. _

_"You really suck at hide-and-seek, did ya know?" Mary's voice froze the air around the man and he looked up. Hanging upside down, grinning maniacal, was Mary. Her silver hair waved in the wind, a wet red liquid dripping off the strands. Her eyes were a faded red. They stared at each other in silence, anticipating their next moves; and then..._

Whoosh! _The man fled, sprinting across the stained field of white. Snow flakes blurring his vision, glasses slipping off his face, bomber jacket swinging behind him, but nothing slowed him down. He heard a surprised giggle from Mary before pushing the noises away. No, he couldn't think of that, it would only slow him. The man's throat burned as he repeatedly gulped for cold air. The wind propelled him forward in harsh bursts, his legs straining to keep up. _

Where was the Oak tree? Where is that blasted tree? I only went a couple of yards behind it! _Exasperation welled in his chest and his throat felt like a furnace. His feet carried him, arms beating the wind around him; silence. Where did Mary go? The man, foolishly, slowed in his running and looked around. The base was no longer in sight, and nothing but frozen water floated towards the ground. He was lost, horribly lost. _

_"I told you that I never lose, but you're a mighty foolish one." The man could sense Mary, her presence, the nonchalant shrug she just did, her biting the inside of her cheek and eyes gleaming with joy, but he couldn't _see _her. Barren was the land around him. "Personally, I like you, you're strange. But _they _hate you, so I must do what they tell me to do. Heh, but you're a fun kill." Mary's childish tone was one of giddy and ignorance, and it irked the man to no end. _

_"Mary? Show yourself!" He didn't feel very courageous, mostly scared, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to pretend. _

_A soft giggle resounded through the air, "Why? Why do you want to watch your murderer kill you? Strange are those from the Living..." He felt Mary shake her head in shame. _

_The man adjusted his glasses, not enjoying his uselessness. Why was he just standing there? Shouldn't he go and at least _attempt _to find base? _

_"Look around you, like what you see?" The man continued to shape his glasses. "Ugh, I said __**look!**__" Her voice was like thunder and it shook the ground below. The man yelped out, cupping his ears and glancing around frantically until he saw. _

_There, in the distance, laid multiple children, faced down and un-moving. Their hair drenched in that muted color of crimson, snow piling over their frozen bodies. Grouped in tens they were, hands locked together and bodies assorted in circles. _

_The man's knees became weak and he fell. His mouth left agape, the man crawled to the nearest circle of children, leaning over a small girl. She seemed about four to five years of age, her shoulder length brunette hair stained in dark red. Her legs looked crooked, the right twisted to the left and her left knee popped upwards. The man swallowed down the lump in his dry throat, choking back chilled tears. He reached down and rolled over the girl, having to release her mitten grip from the others first. _

_Bloodshot. Her eyes ran red, blood trailing from her eyes and cornering her mouth. Her teeth shown from her cracked lips, filed and sharp. Such a wicked smile had dazed the man, he screamed, fell back and heaved for air. Tears flowed from his eyes, he was shaking in fear and disgust._ Who would do that to a child? _His gaze traveled to the other deceased children, wondering if they all died the same way. _

_"You're not welcome here and you know it. Why do stay?" The man blinked and he was back on the field, the Oak tree only a few yards away. Mary stood in front of him, licking clean her velvet fingers. She shuffled her feet, wiped her hands on her pale overcoat, and smiled at the man. Showing her forever red teeth. _

_"W-who?" _

_"'Who' what?" fake innocence seeped from her voice. _

_"Who did that? Who _murdered _those children?!" _

_Mary shrugged her shoulders, she glanced over at the dark woods and sighed. There was something strange in her eyes, something associated with...sadness? Mary gazed down and stared at the man. "Toy, I'm about to do you a favor, wanna hear?"_

_The man glared up at her and nodded. "I'm a let you go," Mary glanced back at the woods nervously, "but if you do this, than you owe _me _a favor. Got it?"_

_"Really!?" He wasn't planning on sounding so happy, but it just came out that way. _

_"Sure. But I'm not doing this for you..." she gave one more look at the shadowy woods, "I'm doing it to piss _them _off." _

_The man stood, grimacing when he spotted a couple of dots of blood on his hands. He turned to thank Mary, but she was gone. A cold wind breezed in the air around him and he saw children running around, tagging each other, with Mary in the mist. Her white/silver hair bouncing behind her as she chased the other kids. Was she always a little kid? He couldn't remember. One second Mary was a demon, the next she was simply a child growing in a cold world. A frozen world. One that wasn't his own. _

_So the man straightened out his back; he pushed the memories of the dead children out of his mind, along with his question of who "_they_" are. He plunged into the wilderness again, beginning to build up the much-needed aura of power around him. _

...

"Dreaming, sounds interesting doesn't it?" The class groaned, wanting the lecture to end in order for lunch to come. Matthew, however, felt anxiety creep into him. He straightened out in his chair and leaned forward, holding his chin in one hand.

"Does anyone here know what dreaming is?" Professor Scott scanned the class, eyeing the few students who had their hands raised. "Ah, Mr. Finkle, what is dreaming?"

The large snoring student lifted one eye in confusion. Drool slid from his mouth and a tired "Huh?" came from him.

"Dreaming. You just finished your nap, so, as the person with the most recent experience, what is dreaming?" The teacher ran his hand through is short black hair smoothly and smiled. A few girls fluttered their eyelashes.

"Oh, um, dreaming. Dam-I mean-dang... It's, uh, what we do when we sleep!" He shot his back up and laughter bubbled in the room. Finkle smiled smugly but it was short-lived when the girl next to him smacked the back of his head with a book.

_Bang! _"Ugh! I hate sitting beside you! Why are you so stupid?!"

"I was only joking, Maria."

"Such incompetence!" Maria trembled, her blonde pigtail swinging as she crashed into her seat with a _huff. _"Dreaming is the progression of sounds, images, and subconscious thoughts that the mind creates and feels during sleep." Professor Scott thanked her and Maria tilted her nose up disdainfully.

"Now, throughout history there has been many people concerned with dreaming and the dream's interpretation." Professor Scott began to pace around the classroom, taping his freshly sharpened pencil against his pale blue shirt button. "In the Bible, the book of Daniel is known for its dream interpretations. Anyone knows about Nebuchadnezzar's dream of the stone statue?"

Matthew glanced around the classroom, slightly nervous. He raised his hand slowly, unsure if the teacher was going to call on him. "Yes! Matthew, correct?" It's already been three months of school... "Tell us about it."

Matthew cleared his throat, "The statue wasn't exactly made of stone, it was different materials. In Nebuchadnezzar's dream, he saw a really big statue. The head of the statue was gold, its chest and arms were silver, its thighs and stomach bronze, its legs of iron, and the statue's feet were half iron and half clay." Matthew remembered this precisely, they use to have Bible read-along with their Papa almost every Sunday when Alfred was alive. Alive... Matthew bit his inner cheek and continued on. "Nebuchadnezzar continued looking until the statue was cut by a stone and crushed. The pieces of the statue were then carried away by wind and the stone turned into a mountain that covered the earth.

"Daniel, after a lot of trial and error, was then called to the king to interpret the dream. Daniel's interpretation actually became a prophecy. He said that the head of gold was Babylon, the kingdom that was given power. Babylon would soon get taken over by Medo Persia and Greece, and once they fell, Rome would take over.

"Each time a new kingdom came to reign, they would become weaker. This was described when the dream talked about the weaker minerals. The Bible never stated who took over Rome, but it says that this kingdom is divided, like how clay can not mix with iron." Matthew smiled, realizing the attention he was getting from the students. _Finally... _

"Thank you, Matthew," the professor turned his back to the students and walked forward with his hands held behind him. "Good example? Well, there has been some studies focused on interpreting dreams. Studies say that dreaming is the brain's way of relaxing itself by relinquishing your inner thoughts and stresses out in images and sounds. Others entertain the thought that God is speaking to you through dreams, like in our previous example. But, there are a few who believes that dreams are a gateway into another world." Professor Scott paused, faced the students once more, and then proceeded to walk again.

"I'm not that sure about dreams being gateways into other dimensions, but science has not crossed out that theory yet."

Matthew felt the sweat forming on his forehead. His hands trembled slightly and his stomach did a flip. Was he finally going to get his answers? Did _someone _understand what he was going through? He couldn't help but lean over his desk, anticipation getting the best of him. No, _hope. _He bit his lower lip and adjusted his glasses. Professor Scott opened his mouth to speak and Matthew leaned closer.

Closer...

Closer...

_Ding! Ding! Ding!_

The class of students rumbled from their seats, not caring anymore for the unexpected lesson. They were hungry. The students left in a chaotic tornado, leaving papers on the floor, pencils, pens, and even a discouraged Matthew.

Professor Scott went up to Matthew, "You did great! But I guess you should go. Though I was really liking this topic, those students were starving." He gave Matthew a pat on his back and a smile; his grey, colorblind, eyes shining.

_"Merci," _Matthew softly said as he tried to smile behind his disappointed face. He simply gathered his supplies and left his Literature teacher in the now empty classroom.

...

Matthew stabbed his nachos with a fork, not really in the mood for eating.

"Hey Matt, what's the prob?" Gilbert stretched his neck to the side, efficiently making him look like a mentally challenged ostrich.

"Nothing." Matthew eyed his jalapeño pepper with disgrace, daring it to burn the inside of his mouth when he ate it.

"Oh, come on, you look pale...er. Kesese~"

"That's not funny Gil! You-mghgghghg." Gilbert had reached across the table and stuffed a handful of french fries into Matthew's mouth. "Don't forget to chew!" He shouted as he pulled back and crackled.

Matthew pounded his chest, forcing down the cold fries and trying to forget the nice feel of Gilbert's hands. What was wrong with him? Well... spirits of course, but... He shook his head once all the fries were down. Why was his face burning?

Around the table was Gilbert's and Matthew's close friends. Kiku Honda, a soft-spoken Japanese boy; Bella was Belgium, and the only girl at the table; Vash Zwingli, a bold and courageous (but also loving) Swiss; Toris Laurinaitis, a nervous Lithuanian, and Feliks Łukasiewicz, the ever-strange Polish. Yes, their group was weird and uncommon, but it was good enough. Matthew wouldn't sit with any other people... Though a lot of girls wanted him to do it anyway.

"I was, like, watching some totally queer show yesterday, and like, it was, like, boring."

"Then why are you telling us about it?" Toris was met with a finger being pressed against his mouth.

"Shh, Tor, you're like ruining my epic moment." The Lithuanian sighed.

Vash cupped his fist fiercely, "You need to learn how to stand up for yourself! Don't sit there and let them _take _your fortune cookies away."

"But I don't make or eat fortune cookie," Kiku shook his head, feeling a little embarrassed. "I _sell _them for my _cousin. _Yao Wang, he says 'aru' arrot."

Bella sat beside Matthew, texting away on her iPhone. "My lawd, I swear he gets on my nerves..." A smile spread on her face.

Gilbert was now picking off Matthew's barely touched plate.

_My nachos are getting cold anyway, why not let Gilbert eat them all? At least they won't be going to waste. _Matthew closed his eyes, not being able to hold them open anymore. He felt that familiar cold engulf him, but he was suddenly too tired to care. He was slowly being drifted into an unknown darkness, as if an ocean current was carrying him away. His body shivered, feeling every bit cold.

_"But, there are a few who believes that dreams are a gateway into another world." _

Was he dreaming? Matthew couldn't tell; he had only put his head down for rest.

_"I'm not that sure about dreams being gateways into other dimensions, but science has not crossed out that theory yet." _

Is it possible? Being carried into another world every night? Every dream?

Matthew felt himself spin as he was dragged deeper into that obsidian abyss. He panicked, wanting to wake up immediately.

_"You don't belong here." _

Was that a girl?

_"Why do you stay?" _

A light appeared at the end of the black tunnel, almost like a crack. It hurt Matthew's eyes to look directly at it. As he inched closer, he saw himself, but as a child. There, in that crack, stood a young Alfred and Matthew. He wasn't exactly sure where they were, but it seemed so familiar...

_"You don't belong here." _The little girl's voice reiterated.

Matthew dove deeper in the tunnel, spiraling down like a football towards the crack.

_"Why do you stay?" _

Behind the two children, his past self, Matthew saw a long mirror. It had a brown frame with hollow masks carvings on it. His foot touched a surface.

_Drip, drip, drip. _The liquid squish sound echoed through the tunnel, and the kids turned around.

_"Alfred, I'm scared."_

_Alfred gave little Matthew a reassuring grin, "I'll protect you. Promise~" He held out his little finger for Matthew to take and he did. "Pinky promise." Matthew nodded. _

He remembered this moment. It was a month or so before the crash. Little Alfred and Matthew stared into the tunnel at Matthew, but not exactly _at _him. As if he wasn't really there in the tunnel.

_No, _Matthew thought, _we were never looking at a tunnel. We was watching the staircase for any monsters! _At that realization Matthew saw something shift in the background. He peered closer, floating closer, until he saw the figure take place in the mirror.

It was black, inky and constantly shifting. The being grew as more dark webs covered its shadowy form. A wide grin split its face.

"No!" Matthew cried as the he reached for the children. The spirit launched, grabbing the obviously brave Alfred around the shoulders and latching on him. Matthew ran forward but as he reached the crack in the tunnel he found that an energy force was put up. He couldn't enter the room with them.

_"Brrr, I'm cold now Mattie. Is your polar bear in here?" Alfred asked. Young Matthew shook his head solemnly. _

Matthew banged against the barrier between them. He felt his heart become heavy and tears spill from his eyes; why wasn't he able to help? To warn them about the demon on Alfred's back? He helplessly watched as the demon crawled around Alfred, emitting white strands of light from the boy.

_What are those? _Matthew thought. He stopped banging on the field, knowing that it was just a waste.

So he simply watched as the demon stalked Alfred like a predator, watched as his past self climbed back up the staircase behind his brother. Watched as the spirit retreated back into the damned mirror, with a sickening shit-eating grin on his face.

Matthew felt a sudden drowsiness creep up on him again. He futilely tried to fight it off, but it was too strong. And then, everything went black.

* * *

**A/N: **Thank you for reading this installment of _Mirrors. _

Remember, Follows/favorites/reviews are ever so loved~ And appreciated ^w^

**Spoiler?! **The promised UsUk fic will be Christmas related! Oh, and it'll (possibly) be out on the 24th?

_** Happy 12-12-12!**_


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